


the shape of it so familiar

by Helenish



Series: Here is a thing that isn't happening. [15]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, underage mumble mumble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenish/pseuds/Helenish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You were already conning people and robbing them blind," Arthur says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the shape of it so familiar

"hey," Arthur says, boosting himself up and climbing through the open classroom window onto the little gravel roof area Eames and Tim have been using for smoke breaks. Eames instinctively palms his cigarette and then, realizing he's an idiot, puts the cigarette awkwardly back to his mouth.

"How long until you're done with the second level maze?" Arthur asks Tim. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of an inside pocket and taps one into his palm.

"couple hours, maybe," Time says. "Here, man." He tosses his lighter to Arthur, who catches it one-handed, picking it out of the air. He flicks the lighter once, cupping his hand against the wet wind to light the cigarette.

"When you're done, I want to go under,” he takes a drag, his eyelids sliding closed for a long second, "and see if you can crack a safe."

"You smoke?" Eames says, unable to take his eyes off the way the cigarette is drooping casually between Arthur's fingers as he leans back against the brick wall of the building.

"Yeah," Arthur says.

"I told you," Tim says, sounding anxious. "I don’t know how to do that stuff."

"It’s different in a dream," Arthur tells him, lifting the cigarette back to his mouth.

"I--it causes cancer," Eames says. "Smoking."

"I know," Arthur says. "Thanks."

*

Eames finds Arthur in the AV room, using a light box to work through a slide collection; he’s looking for some older views of buildings that Nela and Tim will produce in the past and the present in the dream. Eames watches from the doorway for a few minutes; Arthur works quickly, scanning each sheet of slides, dropping one or perhaps two from each sheet into a neatly labeled set of boxes, one per site. It’s rote work, and Arthur’s face looks thoughtful, far away. His shoulders tense a little when Eames steps into the room behind him, but relax again when he turns around.

"Here to educate me about the dangers of emphysema?" he says, flipping a slide into the nearest box, which is labeled with a post-it note that says " _Vapaudenkatu (1983) - evening_."

"Really?" Eames says. "After all the sanctimonious lecturing you--"

"Sanctimonious seems a little harsh," Arthur murmurs.

"Tell me you weren’t lying about pot and Somnacin," Eames says. Arthur’s eyes widen.

"You really never tried it?" he says, half laughing. Arthur, before, was carefully, almost ploddingly, kind. He never teased Eames or made jokes at his expense and Eames still isn’t used to it, the sardonic tilt of Arthur’s eyebrow, the way Arthur jostles at him, expects him to keep up, to shove right back at him.

"No, of course I never tried it," Eames says. "I trusted you, I--"

"Nah, it’s true,” Arthur admits. "My stomach pretty much tried to escape my body when I tried it. Couldn't eat for a week."

"No less than you deserve," Eames says, oddly mollified by the idea of Arthur nibbling gingerly at a saltine. Lying bastard.

"Yeah," Arthur sighs. "Too bad, it seemed like it would be awesome to get stoned and go under."

"I--really?" Eames says. Arthur’s face is wistful, almost dreamy. Eames is just starting to get used to Arthur being a prickly impatient arsehole; he's not ready for an Arthur who uses the word 'awesome.' "Let’s just get back to how you used to tell me I should quit smoking." Arthur straightens, and Eames adds "tobacco," just to be safe.

"You should quit," Arthur says. "By the way, I never said I didn’t smoke--"

"It was heavily implied," Eames says.

"I just never did it in front of you because it didn’t seem fair to normalize a lousy habit as something everyone just did," Arthur says. It sounds vaguely reasonable when he puts it that way, actually, but Eames says,

"But it was perfectly all right to normalize running all over the world committing multiple felonies and messing around in people’s minds," he says.

"You were already conning people and robbing them blind," Arthur says.

"I was already smoking, too," Eames says vehemently. Arthur turns a slide-viewer over in his fingers, fidgeting. It’s dim in the little room, windowless, very quiet except for the faint beleaguered hum from the ancient light box.

"Are you really upset about this?" Arthur asks, his face settling into quiet concern, the shape of it so familiar it makes Eames’ chest ache in recognition.

"Depends," he says. "Is there anything else you lied about?" He just means it as a normal question, but it comes out quiet, low, and Arthur's face falls. His lips part, just a little. Eames has always thought he knew everything about the way Arthur looked, the hard sweep of his jaw, his quiet eyes, but he doesn’t remember Arthur’s mouth looking that way, soft and pink, fuck. He takes a step back. Arthur says,

"No."

"Sorry, what?" Eames says.

"No, I didn’t lie about anything else," Arthur says.

They’re sharing the locker rooms; Nela and Jessica in the girls’ and Tim and Arthur and Eames on the boy’s side. Eames catches himself looking, trying to see if there’s anything else he missed, all that time he thought he knew everything about the way he wanted Arthur. He makes himself stop: enough.


End file.
